Sexiest Wizard Alive
by MandyinKC
Summary: It's time for Witch Weekly's Sexiest Wizard Alive issue again, and they want the famously Quidditch-mad Oliver Wood as their cover boy.


Author's Note: This one is dedicated to the many readers who have reached out to tell me how much they have enjoyed my Oliver/Katie stories over the last year. This story is intended to be fun, so I hope you enjoy it.

A/N2: This story can be read alone, but there are references to characters who appear in my other KBOW stories. If you are curious, they are as follows: _Her Fifteenth Birthday, Pictures of You, _and _It All Started With Quidditch_.

A/N3: Thank you as always to Leafia for beta-ing this for me. And thanks to Keeptheotherone; the nugget for this story came from some idle chatter between the two of us, and here it is 11,000 words later.

Disclaimer: The characters and world belong to the wonderful JK Rowling.

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><p>Sexiest Wizard Alive<p>

July 2001

Katie dashed up the backstairs with the letter tucked under her arm. She found her husband kneeling beside the bathtub shirtless. Unable to resist, Katie ran her fingers across his broad shoulders as she skirted around him to sit on the toilet lid. Oliver, however, only spared her a glance.

"Bobby, I told you not to dump water on your brother's head," Oliver said, and reached for the cup their two-year-old was holding, but Bobby did it again. Seven-month-old Rory, completely convinced that he was drowning in a cup of water, blinked and spluttered, waving his arms in the air.

"Big brothers," Oliver grumbled and snatched the cup away.

"You're as wet as they are," Katie giggled.

"Can't imagine why." Oliver flicked water at her. "What have you there, lass?"

"A letter from _Witch Weekly_."

"Did you forget to renew your subscription?"

"Oh, it's not for me; it's addressed to you."

"Well, you can let them know on my behalf that I'm not interested in knowing how to perfect the smoky eye effect."

"No, that's not—Wait! How do you know about that?"

"Harpies matches." Oliver shuddered. "Alright, lads, time to wash up."

"Well, it's nothing like that," Katie continued. "_Witch Weekly_ is asking you to be their Sexiest Wizard Alive."

Oliver stopped scrubbing under the baby's arm to stare at his wife with one eyebrow cocked. "Are you having me on?"

"Not at all. It's all right here." Katie held up the letter for him to see.

"Well, burn it," Oliver said and rinsed the baby with his wand.

"Oh, you're such a stick in the mud. Don't you think it would be fun?"

"Your mummy is barking," Oliver said to Bobby as he soaped up the boy's dark hair.

"Arf, arf!" Bobby chirped.

"At least admit it's kind of funny," Katie said.

Oliver looked at her and sang, "Scruba, scruba, scruba/Scruba the back."

"If you did this, it would raise your profile and we could ask for more for endorsements."

"Scruba, scruba, scruba/Scruba the feet."

Katie giggled. "C'mon, silly, at least think it over."

Oliver pulled the freshly rinsed Bobby from the tub, and let the toddler run off.

"Better catch your lad, Mama," he said with a beatific smile.

Already half out the door in pursuit of her sodden son, Katie called over her shoulder, "We're not done talking about this."

"Aye, we are," Oliver replied as he wrapped Rory in a towel and drained the tub.

September 2001

"You didn't wait up for me, did you?"

It was three in the morning and Oliver was just coming through the Floo fresh from the first home match of the season. Not that he was feeling all that fresh—it had dragged on for more than seven long hours. Frankly, Oliver felt like he had been in a Muggle pub brawl, but a warm glow lit in his chest at the sight of Katie standing in the kitchen in a vest and an old pair of boxers.

"No," she admitted. "Rory's teething."

"Mm," Oliver commiserated, "poor lad. Did you get him settled?"

Katie drifted into his arms. "Oh, yes, I used that potion your mum gave me."

"You mean Firewhisky?"

"That's the one." Katie snuggled against his chest even as she yawned. "You smell good."

Under no circumstances would Oliver say it aloud, but Katie smelled like spit up. Instead, he wrapped his arms more tightly around her, liking the way her breasts felt pressed against him. In the dim light of the kitchen, with dawn still hours away, they swayed together in time to the music in their heads.

"_Witch Weekly_ sent another letter," Katie said after some time.

"Hm? What's that?"

"The Sexiest Wizard Alive."

"Oh. That. I thought we were done talking about that."

"No," Katie said. "You didn't _want_ to talk about it, there's a difference. I still think you should do it."

Oliver frowned. "Why is that?"

"I think it's a good business decision," Katie said and looked up at him. "It'll introduce you to non-Quidditch fans—"

"But everybody likes Quidditch."

Katie smiled. "Be that as it may, this will introduce you to new fans and we can increase your asking price for endorsements. Maybe even get a few that have nothing to do with broomsticks or Quaffles."

"Like what?" Oliver asked, his brow furrowed.

"Well, you do cut a fine figure, Wood, you could model high-end wizards' robes or do cologne adverts."

"Sounds itchy and stinky to me."

"_And_ like good money," Katie added. "We do have all these boys to put through Hogwarts, you know."

"Good thing their old man is a famous Quidditch player then."

Before she could get in another word, Oliver scooped Katie up and hoisted her over his shoulder.

"Eeeee! Oliver!" Katie squealed and kicked her legs. "Put me down!"

"We'll talk about _Witch Weekly_ again in… oh, twenty years or so," he said and smacked her bottom.

Katie shrieked again. "You are not carrying me up the stairs like this."

"Shh, or you'll wake up the lads."

"Put me down!" Katie clutched his back as he mounted the steps. "You'll put your back out and then where will your Quidditch career be?"

"Might be worth it for the glorious sight I have of your arse, lass."

October 2001

Oliver had had three main arguments against this Sexiest Wizard business, and they were as follows:

1.) It was massively ridiculous. What kind of man went about calling himself sexy, much less claimed it so publicly as in the magazine read by his mum?

2.) It was a tad embarrassing. Oliver knew witches thought he was attractive and he was rather grateful for that fact because looks were the only thing he'd ever had to recommend him to the opposite sex. There was no denying that he was a Quidditch-mad lunatic, especially when he was younger. If a girl hadn't been able to discuss the finer points of the Hawk's Head formation, then he'd had nothing to talk to her about. But now he was rather happily married to a witch who could not only discuss the Hawk's Head, but could execute it, so what need did he have to be labeled 'sexy'?

3.) It would be boring and he didn't want to do it. Oliver just wanted to play Quidditch. He didn't mind speaking to the press about Quidditch, and he didn't mind having his picture taken for team-related functions, but he could chuck the rest. Katie set up the endorsements, and he knew that managing his career made her feel like she was contributing so he didn't fuss about it, but he would leave all of that behind if it were up to him.

Yet somewhere between pulling Katie's top off and _Oh c'mon, it'll be funny, _all of his arguments had been forgotten_, _and that was how he found himself flying bare chested before the Quidditch rings at the Puddlemere United stadium. The photographer, who was more than a bit intimidated by Oliver, had promised that the day was nearly wrapped, whatever that meant. The burly Quidditch player could only hope that it meant he could put on a shirt. Last week, a team of photographers had trooped out to his home for a few shots with Katie and the boys, they called them 'candids'. Then there was the interview, which was worse than the shirtless pictures (of which there had been a lot). Upon learning he would have to speak to a reporter, he'd made Katie lay down some ground rules: under no circumstances would Oliver speak about the war or his family. Only after badgering from his wife did he agree to talk about his Hogwarts days and Katie and their sons.

"Alright, Mr. Wood," called the photographer. He was sitting on a broomstick to take the photos, but he looked like he was sitting on a cactus rather than a mount. "I think we are done with the aerial shots."

"However, we did want to make a special request of you," piped up the assistant, a girl named Lavender who said she was a Gryffindor in Harry's year. Oliver didn't remember her, but she was ballsy enough for him to believe it. And judging by the scars that raked across her throat and chest, he would guess she'd been at the Battle of Hogwarts, too.

"Can we talk about it on the ground?" the photographer said.

Oliver would prefer to discuss "special requests" on a broomstick, but he took pity on the man who was looking positively green. Once safely on the pitch, Lavender was the one who did all the talking. She turned those big eyes on him—they were a strange color, maybe actually lavender—and Oliver knew this girl outmatched him. He felt like prey caught in a predator's sights.

"_Witch Weekly_ is a venerable publication," Lavender started. "Unfortunately, it's also a bit dated. We are looking to be… edgier."

"What does that mean?" Oliver asked, and crossed his arms over his chest. Her eyes followed his muscles, and Oliver smirked.

"Well, we were hoping you might agree to do a few shots that were a little more… _daring_."

December 2001

"Bobby… Bobby… Bobby Wood! I said put that down."

Baby on her hip, Katie Summoned the Beater's bat out of her son's hand before he had the opportunity to smash… everything! She caught the bat one handed, amazed that her Chaser's skills could come in handy in her own library. As she scurried around the tea table, Katie reminded herself that Bobby would soon be three. According to her mother-in-law boys became slightly more capable of taking direction at that age, but Katie despaired at the emphasis put on the word _slightly_.

After placing the bat on the top shelf of the bookcase, Katie grabbed Bobby's hand to lead him into the kitchen for lunch. From halfway down the hall, Katie could hear the tapping on the windowpane. With an excited flutter in her stomach, Katie sped up, practically dragging Bobby behind her. This could be the new _Witch Weekly_, the one with Oliver. The editors had said it would come just before Christmas.

"Owl," Bobby said and pointed. "Hoot."

"Yes, owl," Katie echoed absently.

She got two Knuts and an owl treat out of the top drawer before opening the window. After the transaction was over, Katie was giddy to see the magazine rolled up in her hand. Rory wiggled to be let down and she set him free before looking at the cover. Feeling like the teenage girl she'd been not that long ago, Katie unfurled the magazine and was a bit surprised to see it was a shirtless photo of her husband. She'd expected there to be plenty of skin on display, of course, but she would have thought the magazine would be a little classier than to put it right on the front.

Flipping the pages to the Sexiest Wizard Alive article, Katie saw a big picture of Oliver in a white button down that was gaping open to reveal a strip of skin from his tanned neck to the trail of hair that disappeared into his waistband. Inset was a small photo of Oliver with Katie herself and the boys. It was very good and Katie wondered if the magazine would give her a print. Then she flipped the page and her mouth fell open.

This—this could only be the doing of one witch…

"Lavender Brown, I'm going to hex you into next Tuesday!"

oOo

"Look at that," Angelina Johnson said as she and Alicia Spinnet stepped out of Felicitous Fashions for the Fashionable Female onto Diagon Alley. Gathered near the newsstand was a gaggle of giggling women.

"You don't suppose…" Alicia murmured.

"Oliver's _Witch Weekly_ has come out today?"

The former Gryffindor Chasers exchanged glances, then set off across the lane to the newsstand, eager to see the new issue. They assumed there would be plenty of topless photos of their friend, but they had seen Oliver bare-chested before—albeit a long time ago. They were more interested in the spectacle. Oliver might not be terribly modest, but he was private. His former teammates had speculated more than once on how Katie had convinced Oliver to go through with this Sexiest Wizard business, because there was just no doubt this was Katie's idea. Angelina's personal theory was that certain bits of Katie's anatomy had been applied to certain bits of Oliver's anatomy to positive effect.

Jostling and elbowing their way through the throng of witches to get to the front, Angelina and Alicia came to a halt. There he was. Stood by the magazine section with snow flurries swirling around it was a poster-sized advert that showed Oliver shirtless, one arm curled. Very slowly his brown eyes looked up and then he flexed his arm. Beside her, Alicia gasped. Angelina herself covered her mouth with her hand. One part of mind was thirteen again with a crush on her Quidditch Captain. The other part thought he looked cold.

"Bloody hell," Alicia breathed. "I'd forgotten…"

"How fit he is?" Angelina suggested.

"Like a Greek god."

"Do you remember how we used to fantasize about snogging him when we were third years?"

Alicia sighed, then snagged two copies of _Witch Weekly_ from the rack, handing one over to Angelina. They quickly flipped to the cover article, cooing in unison over the photograph of Oliver, Katie and the boys. Then they turned the page.

Alicia yelped.

"Uh," Angelina stuttered, her eyebrows climbing halfway up her forehead.

"Do you think George has seen this yet?" Alicia whispered.

They exchanged wide-eyed glances, stuffed the magazines back into the rack and started up Diagon Alley. Dodging Christmas shoppers like Bludgers, Angelina was slightly winded by the time she was standing before the obnoxiously painted shop. Inside, products honked and whistled, customers laughed and shouted. Making their way to the back office, Angelina and Alicia found George Weasley standing next to four waist-high stacks of magazines. At the sight of the two women, he opened his arms wide and a manic smile spread across his face.

"Christmas has come early this year, girls!"

oOo

By the time Alex Wood made it to the Great Hall for dinner, he knew something dodgy was about. It had started shortly after lunch when the girls in his Arithmancy class kept sliding looks his way, then disappearing behind their hands to whisper. It wasn't that Alex was unaccustomed to this kind of attention. He was, as his mother put it, a handsome lad. However, this kind of female interest had died down at the start of the new term when he'd started seeing Matthew.

All Alex wanted to do as he took his seat at the Hufflepuff table was fill his plate with roast beef and glazed carrots, yet he could feel the weight of twenty feminine eyes from all across the room. When his arse met the bench, the Great Hall exploded into high-pitched titters. Heat flooded Alex's face. He looked beseechingly at his dormmates.

"Do I have a 'Kick Me' sign on my back?" he asked. "Or toilet paper stuck to my trainers?"

"No, mate, you are your regular pretty self," Geoffrey Masters said.

"It's a shame all of this girly admiration is wasted on you," Derrick Hopkins agreed. "If you were a real mate, you'd find a way of using your magic over witches to earn all of us dates to Hogsmeade."

"As if I would set up some unwitting witch with the likes of you duffers," Alex scoffed, then hunched down so that his shoulders were nearly around his ears.

When Alex looked up again, it was to see his boyfriend walking between the tables, shirtsleeves rolled up to his forearms, one hand stuck in the pocket of his trousers. Matthew of the shaggy brown hair, twinkling blue eyes, and glorious smile, was a year ahead of Alex in sixth. Everything about Matthew was just massively cool from his tousled hair to his skewed yellow and gold tie, something that Alex was not.

"Hello, love," Matthew said and ran a hand down Alex's spine before sitting next to him on the bench.

Alex's shoulders twitched, very aware that a lovesick smile was plastered to his face.

"I reckon you're probably wondering why you are the center of attention more than usual?" Matthew pulled something from his back pocket and laid it on the table. From the cover of the magazine, Alex's older brother looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. It was the _Witch Weekly_ thing. Alex had known it was coming, but with mid-term exams and O.W.L. year work, he'd forgotten all about it.

"Gross," Alex grumbled.

Matthew grinned, dimples creasing his cheeks. "It gets worse, I'm afraid."

Warily, Alex flipped through the magazine, and then…

"Merlin's pants, I'm going to kill him!"

oOo

On Appleton Lane in the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, Percy Weasley stepped out of his Floo into the sitting room of the cottage he shared with his wife. They had only just bought the story-and-half stone and stucco home with the boxwood hedge out front and the English oak out back. Boxes were still stacked in most of the rooms, this one included.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by magazines, was his wife.

"I was thinking," Audrey said without looking up, "we could do the nursery in a Quidditch theme, since Oliver will be godfather."

Percy placed his briefcase on top of some boxes. "For a boy or a girl?"

"Why not? Girls play Quidditch, too, look at Ginny. No need to force-feed Baby tired gender stereotypes. Anyway, they have Snitch patterned cot bedding at the Baby Exchange."

Percy winced. "Unfortunate shop name."

"It is, isn't it?" Audrey laughed and looked up at him with those big, brown eyes. "It sounds like the type of place you take defective babies. 'Here, sir, I want to trade this one in please, he has a misshapen head.'"

"Audrey! That's a horrible thing to say."

"Well, it does."

Percy laughed. "So, Snitches in the nursery."

"And we could put a framed photo of Baby's godfather over the cot."

Audrey held out a magazine to Percy, but he didn't trust that foxy little smile. Taking the offered rag as one would a live snake, Percy prepared himself for the worst, though he couldn't imagine what the worst could be. Perhaps a drunken photo from Oliver's bachelor days? Dear Merlin, not a drunken photo of both of them from their shared bachelor days!

Looking down, Percy saw his best mate splayed across the glossy page of _Witch Weekly_ buck-naked but for the Quaffle he held before his genitals. All of Oliver's considerable muscles were taught and his head was down, but then he would look up and smirk. It was quite effective.

"Well, Oliver will regret that one once George sees it," Percy said and pushed his glasses up. "I doubt my brother will ever let him live this down."

Dropping to the floor to sit cross-legged before Audrey, Percy tossed the magazine behind him.

"Hey!" she objected. "I was planning to sleep with that under my pillow."

"Indeed?"

"Oh, yes, but don't worry, I got two copies so you can keep one under your own pillow, too."

"I don't want to talk about Oliver," Percy said and leaned across to place a long-fingered hand on each of her hips.

"No?" Audrey laughed.

He nuzzled her neck. "And I don't want him in our bed either."

"You were always a fuddy duddy." She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and let him lower her to the floor. Then, "Ow!"

"What?" Percy demanded and leaned back. "Is it the baby?"

Audrey reached around and pulled a hairbrush out from behind her. "I've been searching for this all day."

Chuckling, Percy leaned his head against Audrey's chest. "We are never going to get this place unpacked."

"Not if you keep distracting me," Audrey teased and wrapped her legs around his waist.

oOo

Oliver had never been able to resist cool, clear skies. It was his favorite flying weather, and he'd inherited that love from the man standing by the broom shed. Upon seeing his son, Cal Wood folded his arms over his chest and waited as the younger man housed his broomstick. Once the shed was securely shut up, Cal put a hand on Oliver's shoulder and steered him through the dark onto the lane that led up the houses.

"Your mother has seen the magazine," Dad said and lit his wand.

"It's out?" Oliver asked as he lit his own wand. "Was she shocked?"

Dad shook his head. "Your elder brothers got up to worse than this so you're still the good one. Except Alex, of course, he's the best of the lot of you."

"Dad!" Oliver laughed.

"It's not your mum you need to worry about; Katie is fit to be tied."

Oliver smirked, one eyebrow cocked. "Is she now?"

"Not in a good way."

"It's _always_ a good way," Oliver replied knowingly, and Dad did not argue the point. "Besides, this whole business was her idea."

"I don't think that argument is going to fly."

"Once I commit to something, I give 110 percent, don't I?" Oliver added, a bite to his tone. "And now Katie knows what I've known all along: That this whole situation isn't funny, it's just embarrassing. I'm a Quidditch player, for Merlin's sake. I've had my nose busted a dozen times, my teeth knocked out and replaced once, and every single one of my fingers broken. I'm not… Gilderoy Lockhart! I'm not some smooth-talking pretty boy who belongs on a magazine cover."

They came to the fork in the path. One way would lead up to the big house and Katie, the other would go to the Dowager House and Oliver's mum. The two men stopped to regard one another by the light of their wands. Finally, Dad patted Oliver on the shoulder.

"There are worse things than being considered sexy," Dad said at length.

"I reckon." Oliver shrugged. "Dougal and Fergus would have thought it was dead funny."

Dad chuckled. "Merlin, yes! They would have taken the piss out of you for the rest of your life over this, that is certain."

"Aye, they would have, and rightfully so," Oliver agreed with a small, far off smile.

"Let that be a reminder not to take all of this so seriously. And, Oliver, talk to Katie."

The son looked at his dad and waited.

"The two of you married young," the older man continued. "You're both full of that Gryffindor pride and stubbornness. There's still a lot about life and marriage for both of you to learn, but that doesn't mean you can't do it together. Or that it can't be some of the best moments of your life. Talk to Katie, make that your number one rule and you'll never go wrong."

Oliver looked at the ground. "Cheers, Dad."

"And when that doesn't work, remember that the words _yes, dear_ have made for many good marriages."

Oliver laughed. "So, what did you think of my photos?"

"Ask me again when your sons are teenagers," Dad replied and started up the path to the Dowager House. "By the way, we are set to meet Alex's Matthew when we pick him up at Platform 9 ¾ , do you think you'll be able to join us?"

"You don't think that will embarrass Alex, having the whole family there?"

"Family is bigger than a teenager's ego."

"I'll see if I can get off training that day then."

"Good night, Ollie, and good luck."

It was only a few more yards to the big house, which emitted welcoming light from the downstairs windows. He passed through the stronger wards that surrounded the house. Practically, they were in place to keep the lads from getting too far if they escaped the garden gate, but with the war only a few years behind him, Oliver couldn't imagine a time when he would feel his family was safe without this protective magic guarding them when he was away. Up the walk and through the back door, Bobby and his nephew, Campbell, rushed Oliver with happy cries.

"Lads!" Oliver greeted and scooped the boys up in his arms.

"Mummy says you in the naughty chair," four-and-seven-eights-old Campbell reported, slinging an arm around his uncle's neck.

"Is that so?" Oliver asked. "Did you tell your mummy that I am too old for the naughty chair?"

"When will I be too old?" Campbell asked.

"Uh… well… you have to ask your mummy," Oliver hedged and looked at Katie who was trying to liberate Rory from his high chair before he climbed out on his own.

"You walked into that one," she said and set the baby down.

"Evening, lass, I heard the magazine is out today."

Katie looked up at Oliver and he couldn't understand the emotion in her eyes. It wasn't anger exactly—he knew what that looked like. There was something else there, something maybe like hurt, although anger was a component. In all honesty, Oliver had expected Katie to be a little angry about the nude photos, at least in that he hadn't told her, but he was baffled as to why she had that peculiar emotion shimmering in her blue eyes.

"The boys and I have eaten, but I saved you a plate under a warming spell," Katie said, and walked away.

oOo

It was hard to stay angry with Oliver after watching him play with the boys for an hour before bedtime. It was doubly hard to even remember why she was angry in the first place when following him up the stairs, one lad in each arm and the littlest one leaning his dark head against her shoulder. Katie had to admit that maybe she wasn't angry with him at all. Or well, that wasn't exactly true. She was angry with him for not telling her about the nude photos, she would have rather not found about that at the same time as every other witch in the United Kingdom. That was not, however, what had fueled her ire all day.

"Sorry, lad, no more stories tonight," Oliver was saying as he backed out of Campbell's room. "Night-night."

Quietly closing the door, Oliver stood there for a moment, awaiting the inevitable request for one more drink of water. When that didn't come he turned to Katie with his "mission-accomplished" smile.

"Winky, Binky, and Nod are down for the night," he whispered.

"Winkin, Blinkin, and Nod," Katie corrected, folding her arms around her middle.

"That's what I said." Oliver wrapped his arm around Katie's shoulders and steered her into their bedroom. "So how about you tell me what has your wand in a twist?"

Shooting him a sour look, Katie shrugged off his arm and crossed to her bureau. "I think you know."

"In hindsight, keeping the photo shoot a secret may not have been the best move."

"At first I blamed Lavender," Katie said. "I figured she must have taken advantage of you somehow, crafty witch that she is. Then I remembered that you are not as stupid as you look."

"Er, cheers?"

Katie yanked open her bureau drawer to see her pajamas folded and tucked away. Didn't she have anything that wasn't flannel? Anything that looked… womanly? Or just a tad sexy? She dug around to the bottom where she had vests and shorts stuffed, then remembered that it was bloody cold in this old farm house come December. Snagging the top pair of pajamas, she slammed the drawer shut. Damn, flannel and covered in bunnies. Nothing said alluring like bunnies.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Katie asked.

Oliver shoved his hands in his pockets. "I don't know… I suppose I was feeling a bit out of sorts over the whole thing and wanted some control back."

"Why did you agree to be the Sexiest Wizard if you didn't want to do it?"

"Because you asked me to."

Katie hugged her pajamas to herself.

"Look, Katie, I know how important it is to you to manage my career…"

"You shouldn't do something if you don't want to."

Oliver looked away.

"What? What are you not saying?"

"It's just… if it were up to me, I wouldn't do any of it. The endorsements and all that entails. I'd just play Quidditch."

"Oh."

Katie's shoulders slumped. Had she gotten carried away in overseeing Oliver's career? The only thing she'd had to base her decisions on was what little she knew of Muggle professional athletes. Yet, if truth be told, Katie had been heady with success after negotiating Oliver's Puddlemere contract. In that first year after the war, a young married woman with a baby on the way, she'd made a lot of starts at a career and none of them had worked out. It had felt good to actually be…well, good at something.

"You'll have to finish out your contracts with Quality Quidditch Supplies and Firebolt, but—"

"Lass, stop." Oliver crossed the room and put his hands on Katie's shoulders. "I wouldn't do it, but I'd also be playing Quidditch for Knuts if it weren't for you. You were right when you said that Puddlemere wasn't paying me what I was worth."

Katie looked up at him. "I've seen the quarterly reports, these teams are making a mint off their players and keeping the Galleons for themselves. I've been on Percy about the need for a retired player fund. These teams should be—"

"That's not his department," Oliver interjected.

"So he keeps telling me," she grumbled.

"I like your passion, lass. It's something I never imagined when you were my little Chaser. And I'm glad to keep up my endorsements if for no other reason than I like getting the latest Firebolt for free, but maybe none of that… what did you call it?"

"High end?"

"Aye, I don't want to model robes or whatever. And no more magazines."

"I think you could have made that point without…" Katie broke away from him and went to her bedside table where she had a copy of _Witch Weekly_ and waved it in the air. "Without letting it all hang out!"

Oliver shrugged. "That was just a whim. Lavender made the suggestion and—"

"I knew that cow was behind this!"

"She _asked_ and I said yes. Besides, Lavender's not so bad."

"Yes, let's just ask Hermione Granger about that," Katie muttered.

"Anyway, not everything is hanging out. All the important bits are covered up."

Katie flipped through the magazine until she found the picture she was looking for: a profile of Oliver wearing only his shoulder pads, one leg lunged forward so that all the necessary equipment was hidden behind his muscular thigh. "Look at this side bum, Oliver! Every witch in the United Kingdom will have seen your arse, and they are all just waiting for you to turn to the camera."

"But I don't," Oliver barked, his shoulders tense.

"I knew there would be some shirtless photos when all of this started, but here you are with everything on display—"

"_Not_ everything."

"Almost everything on display." Katie sat on the edge of the bed, the magazine in one hand and her pajamas still hugged to her. "Other witches will have seen my husband's arse and the trail of hair on your lower belly and you look… sexy."

Oliver leaned against the bureau and rubbed his temples. "Wasn't that the point?"

"I thought, you know, that they would see your shoulders and chest and be jealous of me, and we'd all take the mickey out of you a bit—"

"Katie," Oliver said and looked at her.

"It's silly, isn't it? I thought this would be something we'd look back on in thirty years and get a good laugh. But now…"

"What's changed?"

Katie shrugged, but couldn't bring herself to look at Oliver. There was a part of her that knew she was being stupid, but she just felt so damned inadequate. Seeing Oliver—and so much of him—splayed across the glossy pages of _Witch Weekly_ had brought home for her just how exceptional her husband was. Yes, he had a fantastic body and it was all there to see, but that body had been honed while playing professional Quidditch. What's more, he was at the top of his game with fans young and old. Oliver was a superstar.

Sitting on the bed beside her, Oliver touched her cheek. "You're going to have to help me out here, lass, because I don't know what is making you so upset. You're not really angry about me not telling you."

Katie held her thumb and forefinger close together. "I'm a little bit angry."

"Aye, but that's not the reason we're having this conversation, that much I know."

"It's just… I'm being stupid. I thought it would be fun for other witches to be jealous of my sexy husband; but-but they aren't going to be jealous. They are going to see you with me and think… 'What's he doing with her?'"

"I'm not following."

Katie unrolled the magazine. "Look at how gorgeous you are, Oliver, and look at me. I'm not your little Chaser anymore. I've got a paunchy tummy and stretch marks and leaky boobs and half the time I smell like puke. Although less than before, thank Merlin. You're a big, famous Keeper and I'm just a…mummy."

With it all out in the open, Katie fell silent. She pressed the heels of hands to her cheeks to keep from crying.

"Lass," Oliver said quietly. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"That makes two of us."

"First," Oliver said and took Katie's hand, "I'm just a Keeper, a really good one, and I couldn't care less about all that fame business. Second, I care even less about other witches or what they think. And last, but not least, you will always be my little Chaser. My pretty little Chaser."

A gurgling snort of laughter came out of Katie.

"And I like your leaky boobs."

Katie laughed out loud.

"But if you like, I'll whip you back into fighting form and retire from Puddlemere to raise the lads so you can join the Kenmore Kestrels and become a big time Chaser, but…"

"But?" Katie looked at Oliver.

"I thought you liked being at home with our sons."

"I do."

"Then what's all this?"

"It's just… you don't mind that I'm a bit… lumpy?"

"Lass," Oliver said and pulled Katie into his lap. "I'm just a Quidditch player. Any ape could do what I do, but you! You push babies—my babies—out of your lady parts. I've seen you do it, you are amazing."

"So you are saying?"

"I love your body, lumps and all."

Katie giggled. "I sort of wish you had said that differently, but I suppose I'll take what I can get."

"Good!" Oliver kissed her fast and hard. "And what you are getting right now is a spanking, young lady, for putting me through all these _emotions_."

Katie squealed as Oliver tossed her on the mattress.

"Are you ready to shag the Sexiest Wizard Alive, Mrs. Wood?"

"Alright, but under the covers or my nipples will freeze off. I hate Scottish winters!"

"Oh, I'll keep your nipples warm," Oliver promised with a grin. "And your arse, which is not at all lumpy."

Katie giggled. "You have such a way with words, Wood."

oOo

The next morning, a less-than-well-rested Oliver stood at the kitchen sink making a cup of tea when he saw his brother's owl swoop into view. With his wand, Oliver opened the sash for Archimedes who flew in and perched on top of the cabinets after relinquishing his burden. Oliver read the quick, but neatly scrawled missive from Alex:

_ "Ollie, you massive arsehole,_

_ Struck up a game of darts with the lads last night. We used your_

_ magazine as a target. Cheers for that._

_ Love to Katie and the squirts, but not to you,_

_ Alex"_

A clatter on the stairs was all the warning Oliver needed of impending invasion. Campbell dashed in, Bobby following at a more cautious pace, and Katie bringing up the rear with Rory on her hip. She yawned as she accepted a cup of tea from her husband.

"They all have the unfortunate Wood tendency to rise with the sun," she complained.

"Hey, what's darts, lass?"

"Muggle game where you throw a pointy thing at a bull's eye, usually after a few pints."

"Hmph."

Katie settled Rory into the high chair then began mushing up a banana for him. "I've decided to forgive you, by the way."

Oliver looked at Katie. He thought she had already forgiven him, especially after the way he'd made her toes curl the night before. Seeing her smug face now, Oliver sensed a trap.

"I'm glad to hear it?"

"Oh, yes," she went on and smirked. "I figured after whatever George might have in store, I should take pity on you."

A shiver snaked down Oliver's spine. George. Shit.

oOo

George stowed his wand in his robe pocket and stood back to survey his handiwork. It was more than fair to say that it was bloody brilliant. No, _he_ was bloody brilliant. Truly, this was the work of a genius.

"Well, I think you've outdone yourself," Angelina said beside him, hands on her hips. "You do remember that Oliver is your mate, yeah?"

"Eh," George said and shrugged one shoulder. "Why do you think I'm doing this? The man is obviously suffering from delusions of grandeur if he's running around calling himself the Sexiest Wizard Alive. He needs somebody to kick some sense into his Quaffle-addled brain and I am friend enough to do it."

Angelina surveyed the pictures plastered across the window of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. "I don't think Oliver is in any way deluded."

"What are you on about?"

"Look at those shoulders and that hair, the man is so bloody handsome it turns me into a puddle."

"Oi! Watch it, you Harpy!"

She lifted those magnificent eyebrows in mock innocence. "What? Was is something I said?"

"You're going on about your best mate's husband, _and_ you happen to be shagging me."

"More's the pity." She sighed and walked inside.

George chased after Angelina's swaying hips. "That's not what you were screaming last night."

And that was how the window came to be on Diagon Alley. The front window of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was wreathed in lights and greenery befitting the season, even if those lights blinked orange and magenta and honked out Christmas carols. The window itself, however, was plastered in Oliver Wood's shirtless photos with the words "World's Sexiest Prat" scrawled in Puddlemere colors. Over the next twenty-four hours, as holiday shoppers came and went, it garnered a great deal of attention from on-lookers.

When Harry Potter saw it, he had his young godson on his shoulders. Harry looked at his girlfriend and said, "See? This is why I will never do something like this."

For her part, Ginny Weasley thought that if these photos were an elaborate plan to distract the Harpies' Chasers in the next match, Puddlemere might just be onto something. Oliver Wood was one fit Keeper. Not that she was going to admit to any of that aloud.

Later the same day, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown dragged a very exasperated Padma to the shop. At the sight of broad shoulders and thick, dark hair, even the stoic Padma melted. "Well, I suppose you are right…this time," she conceded.

Photo Oliver flexed.

"Oh my, I never knew Quidditch was so…interesting," Padma muttered and her sister and friend tittered.

That evening, while on an errand for his very pregnant wife, Bill Weasley had to do a double take as he passed his brother's shop. Stumbling to a stop before the window, Bill stared in amused incredulity at Oliver Wood's half-naked form.

"Oi, Charlie!" Bill called to his closest brother.

Charlie loped over, thumbs stuck in his belt loops, and burst into laughter. "Merlin's balls!"

"Somewhere, on the other side, Dougal and Fergus are laughing their arses off over this," Bill said.

"They would have hated to miss this." Despite the heaviness in his chest, Charlie smiled at the thought of his old friends. "We should have a pint in their honor."

Bill placed a hand on his brother's wide shoulder as both men stared in silence at the window.

"That sounds like a banging good idea," Bill said at last. "But maybe after I deliver this to Fleur."

"Pussy whipped," Charlie coughed into his hand as he followed his brother to the Leaky Caldron.

The next morning, Ron Weasley reported for his shift at the Wheezes to discover that the inside was even more obscene than the outside. From the ceiling dangled wreaths with Oliver Wood's pictures in the center. A Christmas tree stood in the center of the shop adorned in orange and magenta ribbons and mostly-naked Oliver Wood ornaments. Five life-sized cutouts of the photo of Oliver holding a Quaffle in front of his willie were placed throughout the store. But none of that compared to what was behind the counter.

"Oi! George! Why do we have a naked man all over the shop?"

"He's festive. See, Ollie's wearing a Santa hat," George replied, gesturing to one of cutouts that he had placed a hat on.

Ron curled his lip. "I don't think I can work in this environment."

"Why not, ickle Ronniekins? Naked men get you all hot and bothered?"

"No! It's just… puts me off my feed seeing so much… so much."

"Methinks thou doth protest too much."

"Huh?"

"If you are insinuating that your brother is a homosexual," Hermione Granger said as she walked through the door with her nose in a book, "I can assure you that you are wrong." She looked around. "Honestly, George, this seems rather inappropriate. Children come into this shop."

"That's what I told him," Angelina chimed in as she walked down the stairs. "He doesn't listen."

"All of the important bits are covered up, aren't they?" George insisted.

"We're going to be shut down for public lewdness," Ron muttered as he put on his garish work robes.

oOo

As it turned out, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was not shut down for public lewdness. In fact, it attracted more customers than ever before—and the shop was already fantastically successful. With the influx of witches into the store, they couldn't keep the Wonder Witch products on the shelves. George didn't know if he wanted to kiss Oliver or take the piss out of him. Maybe both.

When Percy and Audrey walked in, George was pleased to see his sister-in-law's jaw drop open while Perce looked a bit green around the gills.

"Hey, Big Head, what do you think?" George bellowed.

Percy shook his head. "I-I feel as though I should scold you. Or maybe defend Oliver's honor."

"That one over the counter…" Audrey said, her eyes looking a little glazed. "That wasn't in the magazine."

"Nope," George confirmed smugly. "Lavender provided that one just for the shop… though at a cost."

"And what was the price?" Percy asked.

"You are looking at the first and only investor in Lavender's Lavish Handbags. Angie already has one and she says they're posh. Then she said something about shoes and I stopped listening."

"Well," Audrey said. She pressed a hand to her chest and stared at the photo over the counter. "That…"

"Is _Ollie_," Percy reminded her.

"Doesn't mean he isn't one fine piece of arse," Audrey muttered and wandered off.

The brothers looked at each other.

"Angelina had a similar reaction," George said and sneered.

"I think they've all forgotten that he's a complete clod with women," Percy muttered. "And that he is very married." Percy gave his brother a pointed look. "You're taking the piss out of him, I assume."

"Of course."

"Good. Just don't say anything about Katie if you value your bollocks."

George clutched his chest. "Percy, such language!"

"Shove it up your arse, George," Percy called behind him as he followed his wife into the shop.

"Audrey's been a bad influence on you, and I mean that in the best way possible."

oOo

Oliver had Bobby and Campbell by the hand when he came upon Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. He knew he should be expecting something. George wasn't one to let something this good to pass by him without ridicule. The window, however, was beyond Oliver's worst nightmares.

"Oh, shite," Oliver said as he came to a stop before the shop.

"Shite," Bobby echoed.

Oliver looked at his son in horror. "No! Don't say that."

"Shite!" Campbell chimed in.

On top of everything else, the last thing Oliver needed was to be in trouble with his wife and sister-in-law. He looked over his shoulder, spying Katie pushing the pram alongside Alex, who was fresh off the Hogwarts Express. They were laughing and pointing, but it would take Katie a few minutes to get the pram parked and charmed before entering. Time to take evasive action before the boys could share their new vocabulary word.

"C'mon, lads, in you go," Oliver said and hurried his wee charges into the shop.

Once inside, Oliver stood in slack-jawed disbelief at the sight before him. George, he'd really outdone himself.

"Daddy naked!" Bobby chirped and pointed in the direction of a cutout of Oliver.

Oliver's mouth was moving, but no words would come out. Then he saw the photo over the counter. Larger than life, his photo self lay on his side, head propped up on his hand. He was completely starkers except for a strategically placed towel that covered just enough to keep the witches guessing. That one hadn't been in the magazine. More importantly, Katie didn't know about it. He couldn't let her see it without warning her first.

"Oliver," boomed George as he sauntered over. "What do you think of the Ol' Triple W. Quite festive, yeah?"

"Aye, it's great. Watch the lads for a tic, will you?"

"Wait, what's the hurry?" George flung his arm over Oliver's broad shoulders. "Ladies and wankers, we have with us a bit of a celebrity. Lets hear some jeers for the man with the Quaffle-sized bollocks!"

The shop exploded into applause and wolf-whistles, startling the boys. Alarmed, Campbell dodged behind his godfather, clutching Oliver's pant leg tightly as the lad pressed his body into Oliver's legs. Bobby's face turned red as he crumpled into frightened sobs. Oliver scooped up his crying son, shooting George a dirty look.

"What happened?"

Looking down, Oliver saw Katie with Rory on her hip. Campbell wedged himself between the two adults, but Oliver's eyes followed his wife as she reached down to pat the ginger head of their nephew. She wore a gentle smile as she cooed at one boy, then the other, offering soothing touches. Merlin, she was pretty.

"Lass," Oliver said, and cleared his throat.

Katie's eyes shifted over Oliver's shoulder. He knew, from the look of hurt in her eyes, the minute she saw the photo over the counter.

"Katie," he said, it came out as a whisper.

"Well." Her voice was thin. "I was wrong about this _Witch Weekly_ business, wasn't I? It's not been at all funny."

Oliver felt as though his limbs had been petrified as he watched Katie thrust Rory into Alex's arms. Without looking at her husband or George, Katie pushed past the men to plunge into the crowd, and Oliver watched her go with a sick weight in his stomach. For once, George shut his damned gob. From different points in the store, Angelina and Alicia materialized to follow Katie to the back of the shop.

Then Percy was there, reaching for his godson. "Young Robert! Let's get some fresh air, shall we? Much too crowded in here anyways."

Bobby went into Percy's arms without a fuss.

"Cheers," Oliver muttered.

Percy took Campbell's hand. "I would recommend groveling. Come along, Alex, let's take the boys to the sweet shop across the lane."

"But I want—" Alex started.

"There will be time later," Percy insisted and nodded to the door.

Audrey came rushing up behind her husband just before he walked out. She took the baby from Alex and waved merrily as she skipped into the lane.

"Sooo," George began. He hunched his shoulders and twisted his hands nervously. "I had some one-liners—"

"Can we do this later?" Oliver asked, hands on his hips.

"Right. Sure. Angelina will take Katie into the back office."

Oliver didn't need telling twice.

oOo

Angelina shut the office door carefully. Her smaller friend stomped over to George's manky sofa and kicked its leg. Then Katie grabbed a cushion and threw it across the room like a Quaffle.

"Careful," Angelina said. "This is George's office, you never know when something might explode."

It was Katie who exploded: "I-I just keep feeling so… ambushed!"

Angelina could understand that. She had been carrying on with George Weasley for six months, and that didn't count the years of friendship prior to that; ambush was something she was quite accustomed to. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. Oliver, on the other hand, was the very definition of safe and sturdy. Not that he couldn't be and utter idiot, but at least Katie never had to worry about waking up with spiders in her bed. That had happened over Halloween and the only thing that kept Angelina from castrating that ginger devil was the fact that he was a good shag, and that she might be in love with him.

Katie sank onto the sofa. "I don't even know what I'm angry about anymore," she admitted more softly.

"Maybe you're not angry at all," Alicia said. She sat beside Katie and took her hand.

"I thought this would be funny."

"Well," Angelina said as she sat on Katie's other side, "George thinks it's hilarious."

Katie made a face. "I'm glad somebody does."

"What is it that makes you so upset?" Alicia asked.

"I think-I think…" Katie trailed off. She sighed before trying again. "I only wanted to share a small bit of Oliver, not have him on display."

"The only thing on display is Oliver's massively gorgeous body," Angelina said.

Katie glared at her friend.

"Those photos don't capture the way he looks at you. They don't show what's truly intimate between you."

Tears rolled down Katie's cheeks as she hung her head.

"And the _way_ he looks at you…" Alicia added, wrapping her arm around Katie's shoulders.

"You'd think the sun shone out of your arse," Angelina put in.

"It's a bit sickening, really," Alicia added.

Angelina feigned gagging for emphasis.

Katie giggled. "Cheers, ladies."

The door opened, and Oliver stuck his dark head in. Angelina's memory of her Quidditch Captain from Hogwarts was that he had often looked harried and pre-occupied. Since the war, since Katie, that had changed. Most of the time, he was easy to laugh, even easier to smile. It was nice. At the moment, however, Oliver's brow was furrowed over his dark eyes and his mouth was pulled into a deep frown.

"Well," Alicia said, and stood up. "We'll just leave you to it."

oOo

Once the girls were gone, Oliver closed the door and leaned against it, hands in his pockets. The anger melted out of Katie, but it had only ever been a cover for the hurt. Even that had more to do with the shock of seeing yet another nude photo that she hadn't known about.

"How many more photos are there?" Katie asked from her spot on the sofa.

"I don't know. We did about a thirty minute shoot so there must be more," Oliver answered.

Katie nodded. "Do you know if _Witch Weekly_ plans to use any more of those photos?"

Oliver shook his head.

"Alright then. I'll talk to them about that after the holidays."

"I'm sorry, Katie."

"I know, and I am, too. For getting you to do this in the first place."

Katie patted the sofa and Oliver was by her side in a flash. They exchanged sidelong looks, and he reached for her hand.

"Where are the boys?" Katie asked, curling her fingers around his.

"Percy took them to the sweet shop."

"Ah, Uncle Percy to the rescue. I think that man loves you almost as much as I do."

"I don't want to talk about Percy." Oliver turned to Katie, kissing the corner of her jaw.

"Put a locking charm on that door, Wood," Katie said, already pulling him down on the sofa. "And we'll make this fast."

"Oi!" George burst in. "I think we've seen enough of your ruddy arse, Wood!"

Oliver groaned, but Katie giggled from beneath him.

"Get off her already, tosser," George barked. Angelina and Alicia piled in behind him. "I don't care if she is your wife, the only people who defile my office are me and Angelina."

Angelina flushed, her eyes going wide. She punched him in the arm.

"Ow! Damn Harpy."

"Relax, Johnson," Oliver said as he righted himself and Katie. "We all know the two of you are shagging. No accounting for taste, I guess."

"Angelina is a fit bird," George said, rubbing his arm.

"Aye, she is, that's why I was talking about you."

George flexed his fingers. "If we are going to trade insults, then lets get this show on the road! Wood, I always knew you were Keeping more than Quaffles in that uniform, you dirty slag."

Katie cupped her husband's cheek as it turned bright red.

"Imagine my horror when I opened _Witch Weekly_ at breakfast to discover a little morning Wood mixed in with my Fruity Os," George continued.

Everybody groaned.

"That's terrible," Angelina complained.

"I'm just getting warmed up. Quidditch not working out for you, Wood? You had to resort to selling your body? Hope you're offering a money back guarantee.

"Wait… I thought I saw that towel slip for a moment and caught a glimpse of the old Beater's bat, no wonder Katie walks around like she's under an enchantment."

Everybody laughed, but Oliver's jaw tensed.

"Watch it, Weasley."

"I mean," George went on, "I always assumed you knocked her up from across a battlefield—"

Oliver had George by the shirtfront and gave him a good shake. "You through?"

The laughter died. Angelina and Alicia shifted restlessly, the last vestiges of their smiles fading. Katie, on the other hand, was watching her husband with sparkling eyes. Her breath caught in her chest and she felt tingly all over. It didn't matter that she was a more than capable witch; she loved it when Oliver was protective of her.

The tension was broken when Audrey walked in carrying Rory. The small witch looked around with a bright smile.

"Oh, I've walked into a brawl, how fun!" Audrey said. "Reminds me of my first date with Percy. You remember, Ollie, you were there."

Oliver looked at Audrey who batted her eyes at him. He released George with a grunt. "Hello, Audrey."

"My husband, ever the responsible one, has allowed the boys one sweet each," she reported. "But this one keeps patting my chest and saying 'mummy'. I think he wants something I'm not prepared to provide."

"Cheers," Oliver muttered, and took Rory, kissing his round cheek.

"Mummy!" the baby demanded, and reached for Katie.

It was a moment's work and Katie was looking down at her blue-eyed boy suckling at her breast. He was big now, his legs dangled off her lap. Soon he'd want to wean, but for the moment Katie relished the way his hand fisted in her blouse and the weight of his body as he leaned into her hers.

"He's a boob man," Oliver teased.

"Like his daddy," Katie responded with a smile.

When she looked up at Oliver, there was a certain look in his eyes. It was the look that her friends had been talking about. It marked Katie as _his_, yet it wasn't possessive. Possession was ugly, like dark magic, but there was nothing ugly or dark about the emotion in Oliver's eyes. It was clear and complicated; it claimed Katie as the person for him always.

"I should check on the lads," Oliver murmured, and he leaned down to kiss Katie before going.

When Oliver was gone, George straightened his robes. "I think you saved my arse, Audrey."

"Yes," Angelina agreed and nudged the smaller witch with her elbow. "George had really stepped into it before you arrived."

"Glad I could be of service," Audrey said. "Though I suspect George probably deserved it."

"He usually does" Angelina agreed.

"My fan club," George grumbled. He goosed Angelina on the arse. "Would it kill you to be supportive?"

"It might," Audrey answered.

"I always liked your style," Angelina said. "Although, we really should talk about your shoes sometime. You've got those tiny little feet, it's a shame you don't wear cuter shoes."

"Careful there, or Angelina will bankrupt the House of Prat," George warned and crossed his arms over is chest. "Although, I could fix that, oh brilliant and surprisingly sinister sister-in-law. Are you sure you don't want to quit your do-gooder job and come work for me? I could use a witch with your potion-making skills and wicked sense of humor."

Audrey waived her hand airily. "Alas, my answer is still 'no'."

"I'll pay you enough so that Percy can stay home and become a house wife."

"Tempting. Still, I like where I am."

"George, if I could interrupt your, er, business negotiations with some of my own," Katie said from the couch. "Those ornaments of Oliver on the tree, you're selling those?"

"Yep, and they are flying off the shelves!"

"I see. And did you ask Oliver permission to reproduce his likeness."

"Um, no, I got Witch Weekley's—"

"Interesting. _Witch Weekly_ is getting a cut of the profit are they? And your cut, it's all being donated to Audrey's orphanage, yes?"

They both looked at Audrey. She was Witch of Funds for the Sirius Black War Orphan's Home. The small, dark-haired woman cocked her head to one side, awaiting George's answer with a smirk.

"Um, of course?" George said and tugged on his collar.

"Excellent!" Katie said, beaming up at him. "I always knew you were a generous business owner, George."

"Yep, that's me, generous to a fault."

"Ow!" Katie looked down at her son who had just chomped on her nipple with his brand-new teeth. "There are other ways of telling me that you're done."

"Oi! It's a madhouse out here, and where are you!" Ron yelled. He burst into the office and got an eyeful of boob. His eyes went round and his face turned bright red.

"What's wrong, lil' Ronniekins," George said, and slapped his brother on the back. "Never seen a pair of tits before?"

The women laughed as George directed his brother back into the shop.

Late November 2015

Ten-year-old Belle Wood had just handed a cup of hot cocoa to her best mate, Lucy, when the back door blew open and two Border collies burst in out of the wind, followed by her cousin, Campbell. He made himself busy brushing snowflakes off his boots while the old dog went to lie by the hearth to get warm. The puppy, Lamb, came over to nudge Belle's hand affectionately. Campbell had gotten Lamb as a graduation gift from his Muggle grandparents last spring. He'd let Belle name the ball of black fuzz, and as she had been quite cross with Campbell at the time, the puppy had been christened Lamb, which Cam thought (quite correctly) was a ridiculous name.

"Mum saved you a plate," Belle reported, ruffling Lamb's ears.

"Cheers," Campbell grunted and blew into his hands to warm them.

After Hogwarts, Cam had moved into his mum's old cottage. Aunt Catriona lived near the border now that she was remarried to an English wizard. Cam was busy turning Red's Wood into a proper farm with the help of Granddad. Normally he ate up at the Dowager house with Granddad and Nan, but Nan was on her eldest grandson about "not working so much" and "finding a nice girlfriend". Which meant that Cam had not told her about the blond witch that Belle had seen Disapparating from the cottage on several occasions. Although, Cam had never mentioned the witch to Belle, and when asked, he denied her existence, so maybe 'girlfriend' was not the proper title for that one.

Of all Belle's brothers, Cam was the easiest. He'd tell her most anything if she asked, even if he did sigh and roll his eyes first. Rory was almost too easy. Dad said Rory spoke before he thought, which was true enough. Rory did almost everything before he thought which was why he had spent most of his first year in the care of his godmother, Aunt Alicia, in the Hospital Wing. There was nothing easy about Bobby, who was always suspicious and private to a fault. Belle rather thought there was nothing interesting to know about Bobby anyways, stick in the mud that he was.

Campbell sat down at the table with his plate. "Belley, how many nights a week does Aunt Kay serve spaghetti?"

"Four. And it's eggs the other three so you'd better tell Nan about your blond chippy so you can go back to eating roast chicken and fried potatoes."

"There is no blond chippy," Campbell replied, but he gave Belle a hard look.

"My mum says you shouldn't call other girls 'chippies'," Lucy said. "She says that girls shouldn't be judged for having a little fun because boys have been having their fun for centuries and nobody judges them. Besides, we shouldn't run each other down, especially over some wizard."

"Even if the wizard is my brother?" Belle challenged.

"Your brothers are all big enough to look out for themselves."

"Lucy Weasley, you are one brilliant little witch," Campbell said and smirked at Belle.

Lucy glowed a red even brighter than her hair, and pulled a book out from under the table.

The Floo roared to life, causing the dogs to jump up from their spots by the fire and run out of the room. A man's head floated in the green flames. He looked vaguely familiar, though it was always hard to tell with strangers in the Floo.

"Professor Longbottom?" Campbell asked. He set his fork down and went to the fireplace. "Something wrong?"

"Oh, no, but I am looking for your aunt or uncle," replied the man in the Floo.

Professor Longbottom was Head of House for Bobby and Rory, which could mean only one thing.

"Mum!" Belle yelled, and got up from the table. "The lads are in trouble!"

Her mum came around the corner. "What do you mean? They are up at Hogwarts, how could you know that?"

"Well, that's their Head of House, isn't he?" Belle motioned wildly to the man in the Floo.

Mum's eyes went wide. Campbell got out of her way as she rushed over to the fireplace.

"Neville? Everything alright?"

"Oh, yes, Katie. Your boys are well, and they're not in trouble, but… Well, the Sexiest Wizard Alive issue came out today."

Mum knelt by the hearth. "Oh, dear."

"Indeed. It appears they have republished Oliver's old photos, and the boys would like to have a word with you."

"Oh, no." Mum laughed. "Let me get Oliver for this one."

Belle looked at Campbell to see if he knew what the adults were on about, but he looked as perplexed as she felt.

"Mum, what's this about _Witch Weekly_?" Belle asked as she followed her mum out of the kitchen.

"Oh, nothing. Just, well, witches find your dad to be rather attractive."

Belle wrinkled her nose. "I suppose he's handsome, but he's… Daddy!"

"He wasn't always your father." Mum didn't further that cryptic thought as she found Daddy in the library. "_You_ are needed in the kitchen."

Daddy set aside his playbook, but gave Mum a suspicious look. "I don't think I like the sound of this."

"Don't dawdle, Neville's in the Floo."

"Something wrong with the lads?"

"No, not exactly," Mum replied and laughed.

As soon as Daddy was kneeling in front of the Floo, Bobby and Rory's heads squeezed into view.

"Dad, how could you?" Bobby demanded and waved something in his fist.

"Sissy Harcourt put your photo up above her bed," Rory reported. "Your _bare-arsed_ photo. Mol hexed her and now she has a week of detentions."

"Mol got caught?" Lucy asked, and giggled. "Daddy'll love that."

"Uncle Oliver, there are bare-arsed photos of you?" Campbell asked, and laughed. "And I thought it was awkward when my dormmates had Puddlemere team posters above their beds."

"Lads," Daddy interrupted, holding up his hands. "What are you on about?"

"Witch Weekly!" Bobby exploded. "Where is your dignity?"

Daddy closed his eyes as if pained, but Mum giggled.

"What about _Witch Weekly_?" Belle asked.

"Is that our baby sister?" Rory asked.

"Send Belle away, she shouldn't know about this!" Bobby demanded.

"Hey!" Belle yelled and rushed over to the Floo. She shook her finger at Bobby. "If it's to do with our family, then I have every right, Mr. High and Mighty Tosser!"

"C'mon, love, lets get you and Lucy ready for bed," Mum said and pulled Belle away from the Floo.

"This is all your fault, lass," Dad said, glowering at Mum.

She kissed him. "You played your part."

"Ugh!" the boys groaned in unison.

"Can you two stop with the kissing?" Bobby demanded.

As Mum directed Belle and Lucy up the stairs, Daddy shook his head and said, "Blast it, _Witch Weekly_ is the gift that never stops giving."

* * *

><p>AN4: Leave a review, please!


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